


Breathe, this is your family.

by RachelDanna



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Schizophrenia, Slight trigger warning, slightly sarumi if you squint, voices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 05:16:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4991593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RachelDanna/pseuds/RachelDanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The voice in his head sneers and taunts him, making him scream and wish desperately for some air. To be able to breathe again. Despite all of that, he searches for the family he wishes for, and it's all worth it in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe, this is your family.

**Author's Note:**

> This (kinda) pushes HOMRA aside so you have been warned.

Saruhiko never had a family. 

His head tilts as he watches the other children run around the playground, screaming and laughing and generally being reckless.

He sees a father and a mother, smiling at their child as he runs around. Eventually, the child trips, and he starts crying. His wails are loud, making Saruhuko jump and stare at him in shock. He didn’t understand, they weren’t supposed to cry. It was a sign of weakness, or so he was told, but even so, he feels fear seeping into his body as the father walks up to the child.

For a minute, Saruhiko thinks he should protect the crying boy, but then the boy’s father picks him up and presses kisses all over his face, cooing over him and smiling. His mother soon joins, and with a tender expression on his face, she brushes off the dirt from the boy’s flushed cheeks.

The boy starts laughing again, a grin so wide plastered on, Saruhiko feared it would split his cheeks.

Later that night, he ventures into the mansion he calls his home, and finds his father in the study, with papers piling up on the desk. The only source of light in the room was the bright light being emitted from the computer.

He stares at this man, thinking about what he saw earlier in the afternoon, and before Fushimi Niki could notice him, he slips out of the dark chamber. He goes into his mother’s room, where he knows he’ll find her yelling on the phone over some meeting that went wrong. Sure enough, he sees just that, and he slips back out without a single word.

There wasn’t anyone to comfort him when he trips next day, purely intentional, wanting to know how his parents would react. He scrapes his knees against the rough tiles of the ground, the pain so sudden and overwhelming that he had to bite his lips to stop himself from crying. Niki is behind him, and he laughs at his son, telling him that he was careless and _you can’t even stop yourself from crying you stupid brat._

Saruhiko was 7 years old when he realized that neither of his parents loved him, neither of them cared about his well being, yet alone be there to press kisses to his face and offer him kind and gentle smiles. He was 7 years old when he realized that this wasn’t a family at all.

 

 

When he meets Yata Misaki in middle school, his immediate thought was that they wouldn’t get along.

Misaki was loud, he was rash, always getting into trouble. He would stutter around girls and blush despite having a younger sister at home. And yet, Saruhiko found himself actually being approached by this amber-eyed boy. He scowled. He didn’t see how they would get along in the slightest.

Despite that, he found himself spending time with Misaki almost every other day. He found himself smiling more often, eating more often, and talking more often. His mouth would be dry by the end of the day, but he didn’t mind it one bit. Instead, he offered a bottle of soda to the red head, taking in the surprised grin plastered all over his stupidly endearing face with a small smile of his own, barely noticeable.

Misaki would drag him to the arcade, ignoring all this denials and tongue clicking. He would force-feed him food that he never knew he would actually start liking, actually managing to push a few vegetables down his throat (though he had complained afterwards), but what Saruhiko couldn’t understand was _why? Why does he treat my like I’m someone important? I’m not worth keeping at all. Why?_

Misaki’s face had scrunched up infuriatingly, and with a huff, he whacked the top of his head, making him blink in surprise. Misaki talked about how he was an idiot, that he wasn’t the smart ass he thought he was afterall. Misaki never answered his question. Not directly, anyway.

Saruhiko started to feel like he was being watched after his father died, started hearing voices. Misaki catches him yelling at it once, looking at him like he was crazy. Saruhiko never said a word about it, much less _to it,_ after that.

Things started to go downhill from then on.

HOMRA came spiraling into his world, making it burn red with power and control. There were so many people here. There were _too_ many people here. Colours danced about his sight, the loud atmosphere making his head pound and his throat clench painfully.

He didn’t understand what he was feeling. As he watched Misaki drift further and further away, his fists clenched into tight balls, knuckles turning white at the realization that he didn’t belong here. He was too different. He didn’t belong here and everything _hurt._

It hurt because the moment he stopped walking, Misaki would disappear. He wouldn’t turn around to pull at the edges of his sleeves anymore, wouldn’t be there to make sure he wouldn’t be left behind. Because that was it wasn’t it? He would get left behind. He didn’t want that to happen.

He decided to leave.

He expected that Misaki would be against it. What he didn’t expect was the burning _hatred_ in his eyes, screaming words like _traitor,_ and _how could you betray me,_ us _, like this?!_

Anger flowed in his veins, making his sight burn red once more. He hadn’t realized what he had done until he had done it, his collarbone searing agonizingly, a pained smile on his face.

This was wrong, this was so _so_ wrong. What was he even doing? This wasn’t what he was supposed to do! He was supposed to _talk_ to Misaki, he was supposed to fix this, he was supposed to make it go back to how it once was. Not _this._

Saruhiko left.

More specifically, he had run. Saruhiko had run, had run away from HOMRA and Misaki and all the bright colours that made his head throb and his eyes sting because he couldn’t understand what he was feeling, he couldn’t understand why Misaki started saying things like _HOMRA is my family, Saruhiko! Why can’t you understand that!?_ Of course he couldn’t understand. He didn’t even know what family was. Was Misaki family? He didn’t know. But the lack of Misaki’s presence left a dull ache in his being, joining the voice that sounded so sickeningly alike to his father, dead and buried, that constantly rang in his ears.  Taunting him, clawing at him, making him scream and bleed at every mistake he made.

 _You’re not important. You don’t have a family. You’ll never have a family. Don’t make me laugh. Look at what happened to that precious boy that put pineapples in your rice,_ Saruhiko _. You were left behind, you were left behind even though you chose to leave yourself._

It didn’t stop. The voice in his head didn’t stop and he couldn’t _breathe_.

_What are you still doing here? You should leave. Leave once and for all, hmm? It would be so easy, leaving. You could turn away right now and no one would even look for you._

A cruel laugh followed right after, sending cold shivers down his spine, making him bite his lip once more to stop himself from crying out.

Saruhiko wanted to die. And it terrified him.

 

 

 

Sceptre4 was… different. To say the least. They weren’t loud. They weren’t rash. They definitely weren’t _Misaki._ They were their own individual person, none of that pride and devotion proclamations that HOMRA was so proud of. Sceptre4 surrounded his world in blue, pushing away the red but not ridding of it completely. 

There were a lot of people in this clan, but it wasn’t like HOMRA. It wasn’t like HOMRA at all. Saruhiko glances at the members of his squad, currently out for a leisured walk back to the dorms, under the dark sky void of any stars, one where a brunette, namely Hidaka, dragged him into.

He paused in his steps, looking at the people that were walking in front of him, watching as they got further and further away. Briefly, he was reminded of Misaki, of his back as he turned away from his world, laughing and grinning as he joined the world of another.

Saruhiko’s throat clenched painfully at the memory. He swallowed thickly, stopping in his steps completely. Just as his team was about to disappear from his sight completely, Akiyama turned around, frowning in confusion.

“Fushimi-san? Are you alright?”

Saruhiko stared, not knowing how to respond, and one by one, they all flocked to his side like worried mothers. Ironic, how his own never treated him like this. Misaki did. But Misaki wasn’t this… warm. Misaki wasn’t ever warm. Misaki _burned_ , scalding his fingers and the fibres of his life, so much so that Saruhiko had to cling onto them, screaming and yelling for it to _stop. Stop it! It hurts, it burns, and I can’t breathe. Make it stop, please just make it st-_

 _Aren’t you a pitiful sight,_ Saruhiko. _Go on, make it stop. If you can._

“Fushimi-san…?” Akiyama called again, gripping the joint between his shoulder and his arm, bringing him back to reality. “Do you need to sit down?” he continued, pulling him closer to a bench on the street.

When he didn’t respond, Enomoto decided to take it upon himself to help him into the seat, getting right up to his face. Jerking back in surprise, the blurred edges of his sight slowly started to clear up, making him focus in on the worried faces of his comrades.

“You look kinda pale.” Hidaka commented, a frown on his face as he crossed his arms. “Did you skip dinner again? That’s not healthy at all! Lieutenant would have your head if she found out!”

“Hidaka.” Akiyama sighed, a warning edge in his voice. Turning back to Saruhiko, Akiyama pressed a cool palm to his forehead. Blinking in surprise as the man narrowed his one visible eye, Saruhiko pushed the hand away with a slight sigh. “I’m fine.”

He was not the least bit _fine._ He still couldn’t _breathe_ and everything _hurt._

“You clearly aren’t.” Enomoto says with a slight whine. “Let’s get you back to the dorms.” And with that, he found himself being pulled up, reassuring arms around his own. “I’ll stay the night with you, Fushimi-san.” Akiyama finalized, making him click his tongue in mild irritation.

Hidaka approached him in a less gentle way, opting instead to poke his sides with a little more force than necessary. Though he soon pulled back after seeing the look his superior wore.  “You’ll be fine.” He smiles, and with that, he was promptly being lead back to his room, with the warm presence of his three subordinates.

And as he looked at the three surrounding him, he closed his eyes, and breathed out the breath of tension he held. Because this? This was family. It wasn’t Misaki, but it was _family._ Echoing what Hidaka had said earlier, he opened his eyes once more, meeting Akiyama’s reassuring smile.

This was family. It wasn’t much, but it was everything Saruhiko had wanted in one. It might be a little dysfunctional, and the ache that Misaki had left with him wouldn’t really fade, along with the voices, but this was his _own_ family. A family that he had found at 18 years old.

 

Saruhiko could finally breathe again.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I.. didn't know how to end it. Much less write it. Whoops. The idea just popped in while I was crying over Saruhiko so erm. Throw that with my very weird writing style, this angst filled fic managed to exist :'D Well I'm happy with how it turned out so yay~


End file.
